The Goldilocks Murders
by wolfmyjic
Summary: The mysterious Black Baccara rose is back in a new case. How do the remains found in the woods outside of DC fit together with the mad man who held Booth and Brennan captive? How has Booth and Brennan dealt with their emotions and fear?
1. Prologue

**A/N: This fiction takes place _after_ 'The Sinful Rose'. I guess you could call it a sequel. Sully is in this fiction, although he doesn't play a huge part. Please don't ask me where Booth is--I'll explain that in the next chapter.**

**Title: The Goldilocks Murders**

**Rating: 'T' for Teens (for now)**

**Teaser: The mysterious Black Baccara rose is back in a new case. How do the remains found in the woods outside of DC fit together with the mad man who held Booth and Brennan captive? How has Booth, Brennan and Saroyan dealt with their emotions and fear? Find out next, on… 'The Goldilocks Murders'.**

**Disclaimer: As always, BONES does not belong me. Views expressed within this fiction do not necessarily reflect those of Gold Wolf Productions, any of our affiliates or myself.****lotline © WolfMyjic 2007.**

**The characters in this fiction are fictional. Any similarities between them and real people are completely coincidental.**

**Shout out to: Goldy for beta'ing this. And to Skylin, a friend of mine who's supposed to be working her way through my fics.**

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_**Prologue:**_

The late winter sun filtered down through the bare tree limbs and pooled between shadows on the dried leaves. Bird songs filled the air as daytime animals began to settle in for the night and nighttime creatures started off in search of their nightly meals. A cold wind blew through the woods, circling its way around all living things, and encasing them in a blanket of winter freeze. The surreal image of the forest was broken, however, by the heavy footfall of a child. The girl ran through the trees, weaving one-way and then another. Her pale face was red and sticky from crying, and her blonde hair was knotted and twisted with twigs and underbrush. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, stumbled and then increased her pace. A sob mixed with fear escaped from her lips as a root reached out and grabbed at her feet. The girl put out her hands to break her fall, then quickly got back to her feet, leaving traces of blood on the ground, and began on her way again. Her heart raced under her ribs, and pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. The wind beat at her face-- drying the newly fallen tears.

The sun floated lower over the woods, and the sky was streaked with pink and purple. The girl looked back over her shoulder once more to scan what may be following her. A scream filled the air as she turned back around and came face to face with her hunter.

_Three years later…_

"I don't have time," Doctor Temperance Brennan said, her pace never slowing as she made her way through the halls of the Jeffersonian.

"Come on, Tempe, just take a look for me," Sully pleaded to her retreating back.

"I have a stack of paperwork on my desk, Sully," she told him-- her boots clicking on the floor as she walked. "I have a deadline with my novel that has my editor breathing down my neck. I promised Angela to go out to lunch with her."

"It'll only take a moment of your time. Four hours there, and four hours back. Please? As a favor?" When Brennan's pace continued, Sully decided to play the low blow card. "Tempe, it's a child." That stopped her feet. She slowly turned on her heels to face the agent, the folder she was reading dropping to her side. She studied his face for a moment before nodding.

"Fine," she said. "As a favor, but," she continued when he moved to speak. "Until Booth returns, I'm not working any new cases. I'll give you my opinion but that's it. I won't order my team to run any tests or to help you in any way. If they want to, fine, but this won't be an official case for them."

"Deal." Brennan gave a curt nod, before she continued her way down the hall.

"Give me five minutes," she said before disappearing through the sliding doors into the Medico-Legal Labs.

Brennan sat in Angela's office laughing at her best friend. "It's not funny," the artist insisted, but Brennan's laughter never faltered.

"You? The Obedient?" Brennan managed to get out.

"Hey, I said _if_ I was a nun," Angela defended. "If you think that's funny, why don't we just check your name? You want to be a lady, a Viking, a nun or a peasant?"

"Umm, a Viking." Brennan watched as Angela typed in her name on her computer and then smiled.

"You would have been Giaflaug the Fierce. Not much different than you today. Fierce, I mean."

"What about Hodgins?" Brennan asked, popping another chip into her mouth.

"We'll make him a peasant," Angela said as she typed. After a second, one of her hands flew to her mouth to cover a laugh. "Folkbern the Court Jester." Brennan joined in with the laughter. "Let's do Booth. After all, he _is_ your knight."

"Angela," Brennan warned.

"Sorry. Oh, look, he would be Longshanks the Brave Knight. Now tell me that doesn't fit him?" Brennan shook her head but couldn't deny it. I made Zack a monk. He would be Gundobad the Protector."

"Zack?" Angela nodded and Brennan watched as her eyes went wide. "What is it?"

"Booth's Viking name is Osfrid," Angela answered. "Osfrid the Fierce Ruler. I bet you two would have been partners even back then."

"What are you two doing?" Sully asked from the open doorway.

"Looking at what our Dark Ages character would be," Angela answered.

"What are you doing here?" Brennan asked, as the agent entered the office.

"Hodgins called," he told her. "Wanted me to meet him here."

"He was bored earlier," Angela filled in. "Ran some tests on the samples Brennan brought back from the remains."

"Well, I have some work to finish up," Brennan said. "Thank you for lunch, Ange."

"Anytime, Sweetie."

"I think you'll want to stay, Dr. Brennan," Hodgins said, walking in and drawing everyone's attention to him.

"I'm not working this case," Brennan reminded him.

"Oh, I think you might rethink that. You know the trace amount of black substance you brought back?" Brennan nodded. "Well, I ran it through some tests. One of the main ingredients in it is the Black Baccara rose."

"What?" Sully asked when both Brennan and Angela stopped their movements and looked up at Hodgins with wide eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Angela started, "that we just got pulled into this case."

"It also means we need to find Booth," Brennan threw in.

"Sorry, Tempe, no can do," Sully said. "Booth is on vacation still for the next two weeks. Nobody knows where he went. Anyway, he left orders for nobody to contact him. I know it's hard, but you're stuck with me."

"No," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "You don't understand. We worked a case a while back that included the Black Baccara. Technically, it's still Booth's case."

"Even if we did know where he was," Sully told her. "Do you think he'll come back early? He didn't tell you where he was going, Tempe. He doesn't want to be bothered with cases."

"You just find out where he's at," Brennan told him. "I'll get him back."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you owe me a favor, and I'm cashing in." The two stood toe-to-toe daring the other one, until finally Sully admitted defeat.

"Fine," he said. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

_find your Dark Ages Character at history(dot)com. click on Games._


	2. Beer in Mexico

**A/N: Thanks to Goldy for beta'ing this. **

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_**Chapter One:**_

_**Beer In Mexico**_

_So I'll just sit right here and have another beer in Mexico  
Do my best to waste another day  
Sit right here and have another beer in Mexico  
Let the warm air melt these blues away_

_-Beer in Mexico, Kenny Chesney-_

Seeley Booth enjoyed being an FBI agent--most of the time. He lived for the excitement of not knowing what the day would bring, the satisfaction of solving a case and the rush he got when he out smarted the bad guys. Yes, Seeley Booth loved his job, but that didn't mean that from time to time he got burned out--like now. He looked out over the ocean through his dark sunshades, and then brought his beer to his lips. When Doctor Gordon Wyatt had suggested a vacation, Booth had been adamant about not needing one. Sure, he felt stressed, after all he had been through, who wouldn't? But he had been able to handle things, to keep his emotions in check. Cullen, however, had noticed the agents change in personality, and shooting the clown had been the final straw. After that, Booth didn't have a choice but to talk with a professional. He had told Wyatt about being haunted by nightmares, about Cam and Brennan being kidnapped. About being tortured, and mocked, and slowly driven crazy. He left out the Guardian--the last thing Booth needed was for Wyatt to write down in his file that an angel-- or whatever she was, had visited him. Then Epps escaped and was hunting down Brennan while he led them on a wild goose chase around the town. Booth sucked his teeth as he remembered how that bastard had been close to his son--had _threatened_ his son. Then that stupid, good for nothing ice cream man showed up with his good for nothing truck. _If he had only turned that blasted music off,_ he thought to himself as he took another sip of his drink. He readjusted himself in his seat, pushing his shirt open wider to allow the hot sun to bake his skin to a golden brown.

What had gotten Booth to agree to the doctor ordered retreat, however, was Sully. Booth gave a resentful snort at the thought of his colleague. He had told Brennan that he was a good guy, had practically pushed her toward him. _He knew that I liked her,_ he thought. As much as Booth had tried to fight the feeling--to hide from himself as well as her, that they were more than just partners and friends, he had come to realize that he liked her. When Sully had accused him of having the 'hots' for Brennan, he denied it, but now he admitted that he did. _Too late,_ he reminded himself. Brennan and Sully hooked up, and it was that fact that drove Booth to Mexico. He had been there for a week and a half already and had two more to go. _Amazing how much time they give you off when it's a doctor giving the orders_. Booth shook his head and smiled. It felt good to waste day after day doing nothing. Nobody knew where he was, and he hadn't answered his cell phone since stepping foot on Mexican soil. He had spoken to Rebecca before leaving, and told her he would be away for a few weeks, that he wouldn't be in contact, but if anything happened, to call him. So far-- nothing. He had simply told Brennan that Wyatt wanted him to get away for a while. He didn't bother to go into details. She had tried calling him a few times over the first couple days, but had finally given up. He let out a sigh and finished off his beer. He placed the empty bottle on the table beside him, and with minutes, a pretty young girl in a red bikini had brought him a new one. She offered him a wide smile, batting her eyelashes as she spoke, asking if he needed anything else. He flirted a little, but in the end, let her go without asking her name. The last thing he needed was to worry about some one-night stand.

As he reached over and picked up his fresh bottle, a shadow fell over him briefly as someone took the chair beside him. Booth didn't bother to look over, afraid that the simple action would invite a conversation. He closed his eyes behind his shades, and went back to enjoying the warmth of the sun, without any thoughts running through his head."You picked a nice place." Booth didn't move, but simply let the voice register in his head. _Bones._

"How did you find me?" he asked, his eyes still closed, his face turned up toward the sky.

"Sully pulled a few strings," she told him. Booth simply gave a half nod, but didn't say anything. "You need to come back to DC with me."

"I'm on vacation, Bones," he told her. "I'll be back in two weeks. Whatever it is that's so important that you tracked me down, ask Sully to help you with."

"He tried," Brennan informed him. "But I told him that I didn't want his help. I'm not working any cases until you come back. He asked for a favor--asked me to look at some remains that were found." She watched him raise his bottle to his lips and take a drink. "I brought some samples back to Hodgins, who ran some tests."

"Vacation, Bones," Booth repeated. "Not working any cases."

"He found trace amounts of the Black Baccara, Booth." At that, the agent turned his head to look at her. He reached up, and pulled his shades down so that he could look over them.

"Is he sure?"

Brennan nodded. "Now will you please come back? We have to figure out why the Black Baccara was on the girl," she pleaded.

"How does she tie to Gary Vancuvor?" Booth's mind was already turning, despite efforts to keep it from working. _What does a dead girl have to do with the guy who made his life a living hell?_

"I know you're on vacation," Brennan started. "But we need you. Vancuvor was after you the whole time he had Cam and I. You worked the first case, you have to come work this one."

"I'm sure Sully can figure it out," Booth finally said after a moment of silence. He pushed his shades back up and turned away from her and her shocked stare.

"But Booth…"

"I'm on vacation, Bones. Back in two weeks." He knew that she was looking at him with a hurt expression, knew that she had expected him to jump up and go with her, and to be honest, it was taking all his strength not to.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "You used to care about our cases--about the victims. There was a time when I couldn't get you to leave hardly, and now I can't get you to come. Is this how our partnership is going to be from now on?"

"Nothing personal, Bones," he said. "But Wyatt wanted me away from the job for a while." _And I wanted me away from you,_ he added to himself. "Sully agreed to stay to help with any cases that may pop up. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to care," she said as she stood. "The plane leaves at six in the morning. I have a ticket waiting at the front counter for you if you change your mind." Booth turned his head in time to watch her turn away from him and walk off. _Great, _he thought. He placed his half drunk beer on the table and stood. He needed to talk to somebody, and Wyatt was at the top of his list.

"No, I didn't call her," Booth said into the phone as he paced around his hotel room. "I didn't even tell my ex where I was going, just to call if there was an emergency with my son." The agent blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm telling you, nobody knew where I was except you and Cullen. I don't know what to do, that's why I'm calling you." Booth appreciated all the Wyatt had done for him, even if he didn't want to admit it. He respected the doctor's opinion and even understood most of what he said. "A body was found with traces of a rose called the Black Baccara... That's right. The guy that kidnapped Bones and Cam, Gary Vancuvor, used it as his calling card... No, we never did figure out how I knew him and the bastard isn't talking." Booth shook his head and sat down on the foot of his bed. "I don't know how this new case ties in with that. All I know is that Bones tracked me down, flew out here and now wants me to go back to DC to work this case. I don't know why she won't work with the other agent. She told me that she wasn't working any cases until I got back. She looked at the remains as a favor. When Hodgins identified the rose, she had Sully track me down." Booth rubbed his free hand over his face. "I don't know if I want to go back," he said in response to Wyatt's question. "Going back means seeing," he stopped. Wyatt didn't know about Brennan and Sully and Booth wasn't sure he wanted to say anything. "Yes, I'm still here," he said. "I just don't know." He listened to what Wyatt said, nodding from time to time even though nobody could see him. "Telling me that it's my decision doesn't really help me much," he told the doctor. "What do I think the right thing is?" Booth thought about the question. "I don't know."

"Well, when you figure that out," Wyatt said. "Then you'll have your answer." They said their good-byes, and Booth hung up--no closer to an answer than when he had called.

XxXxX

Brennan sat on the plane looking out the window. Outside was still dark, and she wondered why she had bothered to come. Booth obviously cared more about his vacation than the latest victim. She blew out a long breath, and then leaned her forehead against the slightly cooled glass of her window. _How could I have been so stupid?_ She asked herself as she tried to block out the noise of the other passengers loading. _How could I have thought Booth would come back? He didn't even care enough to tell me where he was going._ After they had been saved from Gary Vancuvor, Booth had told her that he trusted her with his life. Even through everything with Epps, they had remained close. Their friendship was stronger than it had ever been. She guessed that she should have seen his breakdown coming. When he had pulled his gun and shot that clown, she knew that something was wrong. Then Sully had come into the picture, and Brennan enjoyed the attention that he gave her. Booth had been fine with every thing until he found out she was sleeping with him. After that, he changed. Sully said it was because of talking with Doctor Wyatt, but she wasn't so sure. Over the course of their relationship, Sully had hinted that he knew more then what he was saying. Something was bothering Booth, but she just couldn't figure out what it was.

She felt someone sit down beside her, but didn't bother to look. Once the plane began to load, she had told the woman at the counter to cancel Booth's ticket, or whatever they did with tickets nobody wanted. Brennan still couldn't believe that Booth had decided to stay.

"Why isn't Sully helping you?" She snapped her head around and found herself looking into Booth's melted brown eyes.

"You're here," she said.

"Yeah, I got to thinking," he said. "There has to be a reason the Black Baccara was found on your remains. If it has anything to do with Vancuvor, then I guess I need to be there." Brennan felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards slightly. She didn't want to be happy that he had changed mind--didn't want him to know that he had such an effect on her.

"Sully still in town?" Booth didn't miss the dark cloud that passed across her face at the mention of the other agent's name.

"When I left he was," she said. Booth nodded once, then turned his attention to the front of the plane. _This is gonna be a long trip,_he thought to himself. Soon, the plane began to taxi out to the runway, and the captain came over the loud speaker to welcome everybody aboard.

"Tell me about the case," Booth finally said, after they were in the air. "Skipping the specifics on the body."

Brennan nodded. Their form of conversations tended to offend most other people. "Hodgins found traces of the Black Barcarra--crushed up and mixed with clay."

"What? Like war paint?" Booth asked, looking over in time to see her nod.

"The remains were well preserved, and I was able to gather a good sample."

"How long?" he asked, knowing that he didn't have to finish the question.

"About three years."

"Years?" he repeated. "So Vancuvor could have done this in prelude to kidnapping you."

"Maybe, or it could be someone else."

"Maybe, but then isn't it weird that the Black Baccara was found?"

"Yeah, but it was mixed with clay. Not our guy's MO is it?" Booth reached up and scratched behind his left ear and the rubbed his chin in thought.

"You thought it was worth tracking me down," he pointed out. "So you must think the girl is connected to Vancuvor somehow." Brennan dropped her eyes slightly. Truth be told, she had been searching for a reason to track Booth down. Not knowing where he was, was driving her crazy.

"I just thought you would like to know." She picked up her eyes, met his briefly, and then turned to stare out the window. Booth watched her for a moment, before pulling his NintendoDS from his carry on bag, and turning it on. The rest of the flight was done in silence.

XxXxX

Booth couldn't believe that he was back. The Medico-Legal Labs of the Jeffersonian was the last place he wanted to be. His bronzed skin shouldn't be facing the still cold DC air. He blew out a hefty sigh as he followed Brennan through the sliding doors, through the labs and to her office. For once, he was thankful that everybody had gone home. He didn't want to see the squints yet--and he wasn't ready to face Sully. "I had Sully bring over everything on the case so far," Brennan started, as she shrugged off her coat. "I also had the remains shipped here. Zack should have the report to me tomorrow." Booth dropped himself into one of her chairs, and watched as the anthropologist scurried around her desk, looking for the FBI folder. Once she found it, she came around to the front, placed her butt on the edge of the desk, flipped open the file and began to read. "The remains were found by a hunter two days before I went up there. The local sheriff was over seeing the removal of the body, when local CSIs noticed some abnormalities in the skull. They suggested calling in the FBI, and thus I was asked to take a look." She looked up to make sure Booth was paying attention, and was rewarded by a dark russet stare. The gaze was so intense that Brennan felt her soul shiver. She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes back down to the papers in her hands. "As I was saying, once the CSIs noticed the abnormalities, they left the body until I showed up. Upon initial observation, I took note of the irregularity in the skull, and concluded that the marks were made from a man made tool. I told Sully that I believed cause of death was murder, agreed to take some samples for Hodgins, and then released the remains. Once Hodgins identified the rose, I pulled the case from Sully, had the remains shipped here and went looking for you."

"Why was Hodgins running samples if you weren't working the case?" Booth asked. The question caught Brennan off guard and caused her to blink a few times rapidly.

"Um, well," she said, pushing off and rounding the desk. She took her chair before continuing. "I allowed everybody to choose for themselves if they wanted to work the case. Hodgins was bored, so he agreed." Booth nodded and then reached out and took the folder from Brennan. He flipped it open and read the words to himself. _He knew that the remains of the girl had to be related to Vancuvor_, he thought. _But how? _He ran over the facts in his head. Vancuvor kept saying that it was Booth's fault. That something had happened in Booth's early career to cause Vancuvor--_crazy fool--_to snap. But Booth had been through every file, had racked his brain, and had come up empty handed. If he and Vancuvor had ever met, then Booth didn't remember.

"What can Hodgins tell us about the clay?"

"Not much yet," Brennan answered directly. She knew that Booth was turning over everything that they knew. She was also aware that this case was eating at him. "He's still running tests, and should have more information for us tomorrow." Booth nodded and snapped the folder close. He tossed it back to her desk and stood.

"Then I guess I'll see you then," he told her. "I need to go unpack, call Rebecca and tell her I'm back in town. Not to mention, let Cullen know what I'm working on."

"He already knows," she told his retreating back. Booth stopped and slowly turned back to her.

"What do you mean he knows?"

Brennan drew her bottom lip in between her teeth and then answered. "Sully wasn't too pleased about me taking the case away from him. So we went up in front of Cullen."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth," she answered with a shrug. "That this was related to the Vancuvor case, and because of that, it was ours." Booth watched her for a moment, before shaking his head.

"See you tomorrow, Bones," he said, turning and leaving the office.

* * *

_Yay...Booth is back!_


	3. Thunder and Roses

**A/N: A great big thank you to Goldy for beta'ing this for me. You the woman!**

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_**Chapter Two:**_

_**Thunder and Roses**_

_I want to know why I can't have both  
Someone that soothes my heart, burns my soul  
Something that I can trust but can't control  
All I need is someone who brings me thunder and roses_

_-Thunder And Roses, Mindy McCready-_

Booth unlocked his apartment door, pushed it open, then reached over and flipped on his lights. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly stale air as he stepped over the threshold. He used his foot to push the door shut and then dropped his bag to the floor. Booth looked around the room and felt his heart drop. He didn't want to be there--didn't want to work a case with Brennan yet. He wasn't ready. He needed more time. Needed time to work everything out--to prepare himself for how things have changed. He turned toward his door, locked it, turn the lights back off and then made his way through the darkened apartment. He wanted to take a shower and then go to bed. He figured that was the best way to keep his mind from thinking about Brennan. He was wrong.

The hot water had just hit his skin when images of her burst into his mind. He closed his eyes, tilted his face toward the spray of water and tried to will the heated liquid to wash away his pain. After a moment of standing still, he shook his head, ran a hand over his wet hair and turned his back to the showerhead, letting the water massage between his shoulder blades. _How did I get myself into this situation?_ he thought. _When did my feelings for Bones start to go beyond friendship?_ He blew out a heavy breath. He knew that he had put her in danger. Vancuvor had been after him--had been out to hurt him, not Brennan or Cam. _That sick sonovabitch, _he cursed. He had threatened the one woman that he cared the most about--even before things went beyond friendship. Brennan was so independent, so strong headed, so…so…_damn frustrating_, he thought.

With other sigh, Booth reached for his body wash, choosing to focus on washing instead of Brennan. He made quick work, turned off the water flow and then pushed back the shower curtain. He dried off, glanced at himself in fogged over mirror and then left the bathroom. Booth wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked over to his window. Standing there in the dark, looking out over the parking lot of his complex and beyond, his mind started to twirl again. _I know Vancuvor is connected to the girl, but how?_ He reached up, absently scratched at his chest and then put his hands on his hips. He began to run over everything he knew for the third time, but soon found his thoughts tuning toward his partner. He let out a frustrated growl and turned away from the outside world. Booth closed the distance to his bed, where he pulled back his covers, tossed the towel to the foot and then sat down on the cool sheets. Even though he wasn't ready to be back, he was glad to be in his own bed. He looked over at his clock, then swung his legs into bed and settled in for the night. _I'll have time to think tomorrow,_ he told himself as his eyelids began to drift close.

XxXxX

"Do you have the facial reconstruction done yet, Angela?" Brennan asked stepping into the artist's office.

"Not quite done," was the answer. Angela looked up from her computer and took in Brennan's dismayed look. "Didn't sleep well?"

"I stayed late," Brennan said. "Trying to put things in order."

"With Booth or the case?" Angela questioned.

"For the last time, Ange…"

"I know," Angela interrupted. "There is nothing going on. Keep my nose out of your business. If you want my advice you'll ask for it. Is it so hard for me to believe that you don't have feelings for him? You're partners, that's all." Angela dropped her eyes back to her screen. "I get it." She heard Brennan heave a sigh and then leave the office. Angela shook her head, but didn't look up after her.

"Hodgins, can you place the clay?" Brennan asked.

The entomologist looked up from his microscope, pushing his pencil behind his ear. "Just your everyday 'go down to Wal-Mart and buy clay' clay," he said. "I'm afraid that's not going to help us much." Brennan crossed her arms under her breasts and tapped one foot on the floor.

"Is there anything about the rose that might help?"

Hodgins shook his head. "Nothing that we didn't learn the last time. I did find trace amount of something else in the mixture. I'm running tests on it now." Brennan gave a sharp nod and then continued on her way.

"Zack, have you finished the report on the Jane Doe?"

"Finished it just now," the young doctor answered as he pulled a sheet of paper from the printer. He signed his name, put it in a folder with the rest of the report and then held it out to Brennan, who took it and began toward her office. She closed the door behind her and took a seat at her desk and began to read what Zack had found.

She had just flipped over the last page and a sharp rap came at her door followed immediately by it opening and somebody coming in. "I see at least some things haven't changed," Brennan snapped out before looking up. "Oh," she said, her face falling slightly. "Sully, I wasn't expecting you."

"Apparently," the agent said. "I heard that you got Booth to come back."

"Yes," she told him, sitting back in her chair. "Once he heard that the Black Baccara was involved, he was willing to come home." Sully nodded.

"You know, I could have helped you."

"Perhaps," she answered. "But this is still…"

"Booth's case," Sully said cutting her off. "Yes, I know. I've noticed that you two have a pretty close relationship."

"Booth and I are partners, you know that."

"You keep saying that," Sully pointed out. He hopped up in one of Brennan's chairs--resting his butt on the back and his feet in the seat. "I was close to my partner too. Like this," he held up one hand, his index and middle fingers crossed. "Man, we would do just about anything for each other."

"As touching as this is, do you have a point?"

"My point, Tempe, is that partners--good partners, have this unspoken bond between them. I knew that my partner had my back. You and Booth, you two go beyond partners."

"We're friends," Brennan informed him. "We've been through a lot together."

"But does it go beyond that?" Brennan looked up at him with wide eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, another sharp rap came to her door jam.

"Am I interrupting?" Booth asked from just outside the door.

"No," Brennan said. "Sully was just leaving." She gave the agent in questioned a pointed look. "Weren't you?"

"Yeah," he agreed, standing from his sitting position. "Leaving." The two agents squared off and Sully approached, but neither said anything, which surprised Brennan. Normally Booth would have been one to throw out the last comment, but he simply met Sully's eyes, and then dropped his own. _Booth gave in,_ Brennan thought. _When did Booth give in?_

"Has Angela got me a face yet?" Booth asked, coming into the office.

"She's working on it," Brennan informed him. "Zack finished his report," she went on as she watched him take a seat on her couch. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"No reason," she said. "The, um, cause of death was most likely blunt force trauma to the back of the head. The markings found on the bones were made with something like the back of a gun or knife, something like that…Booth are you listening to me?" Booth looked over from where he was slouched down, and offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things," he lied. "What else?" Brennan eyed him suspiciously, but didn't comment on the lie.

She cleared her throat and went on. "Hodgins said that the clay was just an everyday variety. He also found something else in the mixture, but he hasn't gotten back to me on that."

"I have the face," Angela said, walking into the office. "Oh, hey Booth." The agent gave her a friendly nod, before turning his head away. Angela and Brennan exchanged worried looks before the artist walked over and handed the page Booth.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "I'll see if I can track down who this is." He stood, and left without another word.

"Wow," Angela said, taking a seat across from Brennan. "That's one sad puppy dog."

"He's been like that since I found him. He just doesn't seem like himself."

"You're telling me. No quirky remarks, no charm smiles…"

"No sparkle in his eyes," Brennan threw in. "Ange, I'm worried about him. When he showed up, Sully was here and do you know what happened?"

"Booth made a snide remark about how he dresses, threw you a smile that could melt butter, and then went into business mood when you gave him a warning look?" Angela offered hopefully.

"No, he looked away and backed down."

"What? No way. That doesn't sound like our Booth one bit."

"I know. What do you think is wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Angela admitted, glancing out the door the agent had disappeared out of. "I don't know."

XxXxX

Booth stood just outside the sliding doors leading into the Medico-Legal labs. He watched everybody go about their business. He watched each of their faces and took in how each person seemed completely focused on what they were doing. He drew in a deep breath and held it for the count of ten, then blew it out. Things were different for him. Wyatt had told him that things always changed. That's what made the world so interesting--that nothing stayed the same, not even people. Booth had to agree, he wasn't the same person. Not anymore. He had changed, had grown. He saw things differently now, and that scared him. He was changing, but his life wasn't keeping up. He gave a sad shake of his head, before stepping closer to the doors and waiting for them to open. "Kady Nichols," he called out as he made his way to the center platform.

"Is that our girl?" Brennan asked as she looked up from the table before her.

"Yup." Booth bounded up the steps two at a time. "Kady Nichols, went missing three years ago. The uncle was looked at but that never panned out. She lived about a hundred miles from where she was found."

"Wondered what she was doing so far away from home?" Angela asked.

"It had to be a kidnapping," Brennan said. "Most sexual predators live close to the victims, and then they normally don't leave their comfort zones."

"I'm going to go talk with the parents tomorrow," Booth went on. "See if maybe they remember anything new about that time in their life."

"What time are we going to leave?" Brennan asked. "You weren't going without me, were you?" she asked when he looked toward the left.

"Of course not," he said. "It's just that it's a long ride, and it's just a few interviews…" he let the sentence drop. Brennan pulled off her latex gloves, tossed them in the recycle ban, grabbed Booth by the arm and dragged him down the steps.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded as she tugged him into her office and closed the door.

"Nothing's wrong, Bones," he said.

"Would you stop lying to me? I think I know you well enough to know when something's wrong."

"Do you?" he countered. "Do you really know me as well as you think? I am, can you tell when I'm happy or sad or distracted? Can you read me like that? Or do you rely on Angela to tell what she thinks I'm feeling?"

"That's not fair, Booth," Brennan snapped.

"Yeah, but is it true?" He watched her blue eyes cloud over and he knew that he had gone too far, but for some reason he didn't care. "I'll see you at seven," he said, turning from her and leaving. Brennan watched him go, her mind spinning around what had just been said. _That might be Seeley Booth_, she thought. _But that's not my friend anymore._

XxXxX

Booth slammed the palm of his left hand hard against the wall of his apartment, and then rested his forehead against the hardness. "What the hell, Seeley?" he asked himself, as he replayed what had happened with Brennan. What had he been thinking? He couldn't get the look of pain out of his mind. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Brennan. Booth stood straight, and scrubbed his hands over his face. _My mind hurts._ He made his way through his dimly lit apartment. He thought that once Vancuvor was caught and the nightmares stopped and Brennan was brought home safely, that he would be okay. But he had been wrong. Things were getting worse. That's why Wyatt had sent him away--to de-stress, but Brennan had found him, and Vancuvor was still haunting him. _Guardian, where are you?_ Booth needed something to relieve stress, to get his mind off of everything. He walked to his bedroom, changed clothes and then left his place for an overdue workout.

Outside, the cold air wrapped around his skin and reminded him that he wasn't in Mexico anymore. After a quick stretch, Booth began to walk. After a moment, he increased his speed, and after about five minutes, he was at a full jog. The world blurred by him, and soon his mind was drifting over what was going on in his life. As his heart rate sped up, so did his thoughts. When he and Brennan had escaped from Vancuvor, he had told her that he trusted her with his life. Had he lied about that? _No,_ he answered himself. He had meant what he said. _Then what changed?_ He increased his speed more as he thought about that. _Sully,_ he finally admitted. _Sully came in and did what I was too scared to do._ Booth pushed himself through the pain of his lungs beginning to burn. He rounded a bend in the path he was taking, and once he noticed that there was nobody around, he slowed his pace. Coming to a stop, he stretched out any again and then dropped to the ground. _I can't blame the guy,_ he told himself as he started to count out pushups. _She's attractive. She's smart. Twenty-five. She's funny, okay, maybe in her own way. She has convictions. I like that in a woman. Forty-two. Her work proves her devotion to the victims. _Booth snorted at the word devotion. _Her work is the only thing she's devoted too. Sixty-seven. How come she's got to be so…so…_He couldn't think of a word to finish the sentence, so instead he focused on making it to hundred pushups. Once there, he stood, stretched out briefly, and then began the jog back home. He was just about to go pass the last turn before his apartment, when something to his right caught his attention. His pace came to a dead stop and as sweat dripped down his face, his eyes settled on the aged eyes of the Guardian. "You," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Indeed, Agent Booth," the old woman said. She was sitting comfortably on a bench that Booth didn't remember ever being there.

"I thought I would never see you again," he commented, stepping off the track and towards his visitor.

"If you remember correctly," she began throwing a piece of bread to a small flock of birds. "You called for me."

"So I did." He stepped around the birds, that didn't seem to mind, and took a seat next to his Guardian. "I didn't think you would come though."

"You've convinced yourself that maybe I'm not real, right? Thought that the nightmares really did drive you crazy?"

"They did," Booth said. "I can't seem to get my life back on track. And now, now the Black Bacarra rose has shown back up." He shook his head. "My mind feels like green Jell-O."

"It must be bad if you know the color," Guardian half teased. "This rose must be very important and powerful if it can cause you such heartache."

"You have no idea," Booth told her, dropping his head to his hands. "Traces of it were found on the remains of a little girl. But Vancuvor is in jail and he's not talking, so I'm not sure how this fits in. The remains are at least three years old, so he could have done it, but as Bones points out, it's not really our guys MO."  
"Didn't he talk about his Chosen One?" Guardian asked. "Did you ever figure out why he kept saying that? Or how he knew you?"

"That's just it, Guardian, I haven't figured it out. I've been back through every case, I don't know this guy."

"He knows you."

"Gee, you think?"

"You know, Seeley, sometimes we let our emotions cloud our judgments. We let things in our lives over shadow what we should do."

"That doesn't really make sense to me," Booth said, looking over at her.

"Not my fault, Agent Booth. But may I suggest that you run along?"

"My own guardian is kicking me out," Booth said.

"I'm not here to hold your hand. I'm here to guide you as I see fit. Now, go on." Booth stood from the bench, and trotted back to the trail. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was still feeding the birds. He took a few hurried steps and then began his jog. Booth rounded the last bend just in time to see Sully emerge from his apartment building. He thought that maybe he could duck behind some trees before the other agent spotted him, but Sully looked up, gave a wave and Booth knew it was too late.

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. You Ain't Going Crazy

**A/N: Ok, so this fiction is moving along faster than I thought it would. So hung in there. Thanks to Goldy and her scary good memory for beta'ing this and pointing out one area that needed work. You da bomb.**

**Oh, did everybody see my ants in last weeks episode?? My babies are famous!!! (ok, maybe not _my_ ants but I can dream, right???)**

* * *

_We never walked on the moon. Elvis ain't dead. You ain't going crazy. It's all in your head. It's all interpretation. To find the truth you gotta read between the lines. Work out your own salvation. That narrow path is hard to define. Heaven's more than a place. It's a state of mind._

_-It's all in your head, Diamond Rio-_

_**Chapter Three:**_

_**It's All In your Head**_

Booth groaned internally as he made his way to where Sully was waiting for him. "Hey." Booth gave the other agent a nod of acknowledgement. He then put his hands on his hips and bent slightly at the waist; drawing in fresh, cool air into his lungs. "Good run?"

"Guess you could say that," Booth commented. "I feel so healthy I may just burst." Sully gave a short laugh and then leaned back on his car. "Any reason for the surprise inspection?"

"Just thought we could talk for a few minutes."

"Listen, Sully, I don't really have time to…"

"Tempe told me what happened earlier," Sully interrupted. "What the hell is your problem?"

"What ever it is," Booth said, straighten, "it's not your business."

"Listen to me. I've never seen Tempe so upset."

"Yeah, well, I have and she'll get over it." Sully reached out and grabbed Booth's arm as he walked by him.

"She's your partner."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then act like it," Sully demanded. "I lost my partner, remember? And if I learned anything, it's that when he got killed, there was a lot of unsaid things between us. You're more than just her partner--you're her friend. One of her best friends. Whatever is going on with you, don't take it out on Tempe."

"Gee, thanks for the advice," Booth said, with a roll of his eyes.

"Listen, Booth, I'm just trying to make sure you don't make a huge mistake. You said Tempe pushes people away, but you're doing the same thing. You're pissed because I made the move you didn't have the nerve to do."

"Sully, if I was you, I would drop this," Booth warned.

"Or what?" Booth stood tall and looked Sully in the eyes.

"I don't know what your problem is, but you aren't the same Booth I've known."

"Everybody changes," Booth commented, stepping back. "Sometimes the world just doesn't change with them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." Booth turned away and began the trek to the front door of his building.

"Tempe and I aren't together anymore," Sully called out. He watched Booth's movements stop and his shoulders go stiff. "Things just weren't working out." Booth didn't turn back around, instead, he continued in through the door.

XxXxX

Booth sat at a window table in the diner, starring at a plate of French fries. His mind swirled around the facts on his recent case. Interviewing Kady Nichols' parents hadn't led him any closer. She had disappeared on a beautiful fall day, after picking the perfect pumpkin for Halloween. She was young, smart, an active member of the Girl Scouts and sung in her church choir. _The perfect little angel,_ Booth thought. He picked up a fry, popped it in his mouth and then went back to his thoughts as he chewed. As far as he could tell, Kady wasn't connected to Vancuvor in anyway, but he had a few younger agents going back over the case, just to make sure. Booth thought back to when he and Brennan were stranded in that abandoned building and everything leading up to it. He had thought he was going crazy. Between the nightmares and Guardian, he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Back then he had been sleep deprived, suffering from torturous visions and scared to death that he was going to lose the one woman that he cared the most for. He gave a snort as he reached for another fry. _You saved her,_ he thought to himself. _Only to lose her to Sully. Just my luck._ He shook his head and then washed down his food with a gulp of soda. Wyatt had told him that he needed to work through some repressed emotions. _You think, Doc?_ Booth knew his emotions just weren't repressed, they were locked away somewhere below his heart, in a place where nobody could get to. _And I tell Bones that she needs to let people in,_ he thought. _Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? _Everybody had him figured out. Some ex-Army Sniper turned FBI to redeem himself. A G-Man out for truth, honor and the pursuit of justice. What they didn't know was his darkened past. Not Rebecca, or Cam or even Brennan knew the secrets hidden inside. Booth pushed away his now empty plate, propped his elbows on the table, interlaced his fingers and then rested his chin on them. He knew that he had some things to work out, knew that something had to change before he went completely crazy. He felt like his life just hadn't been the same since the first nightmare had happened. Booth took a deep breath and then exhaled it through his nose. He knew what he had to do, the question was--how to tell Brennan?

Booth was just about to enter the Medico-Legal Labs when his cell phone began to ring. He answered it as the sliding doors opened and he walked in, "Booth." He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, reached for his notepad and then jotted down the information the agent on the other end gave him. "Be there soon." He snapped his phone shut and looked up to find Brennan starring at him. "Get your kit, Bones, we have another body." Brennan nodded. She pulled off her latex gloves, tossed them in the correct bin and then went to retrieve her items. Ten minutes later, they were settled in Booth's SUV, heading out of the Jeffersonian parking lot.

"Any reason you were coming by?" Brennan asked, glancing over at her partner.

"Remains, Bones."

"You got the call after showing up," Brennan pointed out. "Were you coming by for any reason?" Booth clenched at the steering wheel with white-knuckle force. When he had decided to head the Jeffersonian--it felt like a great idea. His will power was high and he was determined to tell Brennan his news, but now, now he wasn't so sure about the idea. Now his heart was racing and he felt sweat bead up around his hairline. Booth's tongue darted out to wet his lips and then offered Brennan a weak smile.

"It was nothing," he lied. "Don't worry about it." She eyed him warily, but didn't say anything more. She turned her attention, instead, to the world blurring by outside. She rested her elbow on the window frame of the door, placed her chin in her open palm and let out a sigh. She knew that Booth was avoiding something, and it was bothering her for some reason. She wasn't the best at reading people, but she knew Booth--_doesn't matter what he thinks._ And she knew that something was wrong. _And I'm gonna figure out what it is._ She set her mouth in a firm line and gave a determined nod.

They had been on the road for three and a half hours before Booth exited off the highway. They drove on for a few more miles before he turned off onto a smaller road. It was lined on both sides with cookie-cutter houses. Children on bicycles stopped and watched the black vehicle pass. The neighborhood was eerily quiet as the two pulled to a stop in front of the last house on the street and got out. "Is this where the victim lived?" Brennan asked, wondering why they had come here first instead on the crime scene.

"Nope," Booth answered. "Body was found in the backyard. Family was putting in a pool. Backhoe guy dug it up." Brennan followed Booth up the front walk. A young agent wearing round rimmed glasses and Reebok running shoes was standing, waiting for them. Booth gave him the once over, them grumbled something, obvious disgusted, about a man in a suit wearing anything but dress shoes.

"I remember you wearing tennis shoes with a suit once," Brennan said, in response.

"Me?" he questioned, looking over at her shocked. "When?"

"Last year, remember? I think it was, oh, when we found that guy dressed like a super hero."

"Oh, you can remember that, but you forget what time to met for dinner."

"The only reason I remember is because they were black with a white toe, and I thought it was tacky."

"You? You thought…"

"Agent Booth?" the other agent asked, interrupting their discussion.

"That's me, and this is my partner, Doctor Brennan."

"Curtis Long." He held out his hand that Booth ignored.

"Remains?"

"In the back," Agent Long replied, looking like a puppy that had been punished. Booth placed a hand on the small of Brennan's back and led her around the side of the house and through the gate into the backyard. "Once we realized that we were dealing with a body," Long said, almost running to keep up. "We called you." Booth held up the crime scene tape for Brennan move under it. He watched as Brennan snapped on her gloves and knelt down next to the pile of dirt and the partial remains. She brushed off some loose soil and gently touched the pelvic bone.

"Female," she called back to Booth.

"Age?" She continued her examine.

"From the size of the skull, I'm going to say somewhere between six and nine. Maybe ten."

"Same age as Kady."

"You think this is related?" Brennan asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

"Kady was found about thirty minutes from here," Booth pointed out.

"That's a huge supposition, Booth."

"Maybe," he answered with a shrug. Brennan shook her head, and then turned back to the remains. She collected samples for Hodgins and then personally packed the remains. Booth had watched for a while, before becoming restless. He asked Long if anything had been found with the body, was told no. He asked a few more questions, and then began to walk around the yard. He pushed on fence posts to judge how well it was made. He rapped his knuckles on the half empty oil tank, then made his way to the slightly overgrown area in the very back. He used the tip of his shoe to move a few boards and send the bugs scuttling. An old doghouse caught his attention, and he carefully made his way to it. Pulling his penlight from his pocket, Booth shone it into the darkness. Nothing of interest to be found, so Booth moved on. He walked around the house and entered the house. Agents stood around, keeping the family in one place. "I'm Agent Seeley Booth," he said, flashing his badge.

"I'm Stanley Lawson," a middle age man answered, standing from the living room couch.

"Mister Lawson, do you have a dog?"

"No," he answered. My wife has a cat and the kids have a hamster, but no dogs."

"I couldn't help but to notice the doghouse in the back."

"The last owners left it," Stanley said. "Rover is buried somewhere back there." Booth nodded, as his eyes glided over pictures of the Lawson family.

"And how long have you lived her?"

"Two years."

"Is it true?" the woman next to Stanley asked. "Is it a human body?"

"I'm afraid so," Booth answered. "Anybody go missing since you've been here?"

"No," Stanley said, shaking his head.

"Have you seen anybody hanging around the house? Any dirt displaced?"

"We have a six year old son," Stanley commented. "There's always dirt displaced, but nothing big, and mostly on the side of the house. Nothing big enough for a…a body." Booth nodded.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you and your family to stay else where, while we clear the scene."

"Of course."

"Thank you." Booth handed Stanley a card and then left the house. He found Brennan sitting in the SUV, door wide open and her cell phone pressed to her ear.

"Right," she was saying. "It should be there in a few hours. Have Zack continue examining the remains. Get Hodgins working on the samples and I need you to start on a face." Booth walked around the SUV and climbed in. "Yeah, I know. Okay, bye." She hung up and looked over at Booth.

"Everything good?"

"The remains are on the way to the Jeffersonian."

"Good."

"Did the owners of the house know anything?'

"No," he answered as he cranked the engine. "They've lived here for two years. Nothing unusual and they don't remember anybody going missing since they've been here. They did say that the old owners had a dog."

"That explains the extra bones found with the remains. I put them at about six months older than the body."

"How about some dinner before we head back?"

"Sounds good."

XxXxX

"You're distracted," Brennan said as they sat across from each other in a Mexican restaurant.

Booth shrugged. "Just a lot on my mind." Brennan watched Booth push the last few bites of refried beans around his plate.

"It's more than the case, isn't it?" Booth dropped his fork into the plate and pushed it away from him. "What's wrong Booth?" He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back in his chair.

"I've, um," he started. "I've been thinking. About life--my life. What I want? Where I'm going?"

"That's good, right? That means Wyatt is doing his job, right?" Booth offered a half grin.

"Yeah, maybe. We've been partners for a few years now, Bones, do you ever get…I don't know, tired?"

"Of you?"

"Of everything."

"Maybe a little, but what am I suppose to be thinking about?"

"Where is it all going? Are we really making a difference?"

"Of course we make a difference." Booth shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I just don't know, and that's the problem." He leaned forward in his chair. "I did a lot of thinking those two weeks in Mexico, Bones. I went over the Vancuvor case forward and backwards. I thought about my job and my deeds, my son, my life. I even thought about you."

"And what did you figure out?" Brennan asked, looking him in the eyes.

"That maybe I need a change," he answered. "That maybe it's time to change a few things in my life. I can't change my past deeds. Rebecca won't allow me to see my son more often. My life won't change until I do so that just leaves you and my job." Brennan felt her breath catch in her chest.

"What are you saying, Booth?" she asked.

"I put in for a transfer." The world went still, and Brennan's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"Excuse me?" Booth dropped his eyes to the table and worried his bottom lip for the moment between his teeth.

"I put in for a transfer," he repeated, lifting his eyes. "I'm not going to be the liaison between the FBI and the Jeffersonian after this case is solved."

XxXxX

"It was like being hit in the chest," Brennan complained to Angela. The artist sat on the couch in Brennan's office, watching her friend pace the length. "I didn't see it coming."

"Honey, you've got to calm down."

"How can I calm down?" Brennan asked. "My partner just told me that he was leaving. I can't believe it. We were sitting there and then bam, he said he had put in for a transfer."

"Do you know why?"

"No," Brennan answered, shaking her head. "He said something about changing his life and that the only thing he could change was me and his job. What do you think he meant by that?" Angela had a pretty good idea, but decided not to come out and say it.

"You know Booth," she chose to say instead.

"That's just it. I thought I knew him, but I'm telling you, Angela, this came out of nowhere. He's just been different lately."

"He's had a lot of things happen to him," Angela said. "You're different too, Sweetie. You had a relationship that lasted for a fair piece of time."

"And look how that worked out," Brennan pointed out.

"But you gave it a try. You and Sully just weren't meant to be together."

"I don't think I was meant to be with anybody," Brennan said, flopping down on the couch next to Angela.

"Don't say that. You'll find someone." She offered Brennan a wide smile that wasn't returned. "Promise."

XxXxX

Booth lay in bed with his arms crossed under his head. His eyes were unfocused on the ceiling and his thoughts were being dragged through the muck of his brain. He couldn't get the look of Brennan's face out of his mind. She was shocked and mad and…_hurt._ A growl rumbled up from deep within him at the thought. Some restaurant wasn't where he had planned on telling Brennan, but she asked, pushed, and he couldn't hold it back. He wanted her to know--wanted to get it over with. But, damn, he hadn't expected her to look so…_damn hurt._ "I hope I'm doing the right thing," he said aloud. _But what is the right thing? I'm going crazy. Pure and simple._ "Pure and simple. Crazy, and the only thing left is to work out my own salvation."

* * *

_TBC..._


	5. Moments

**A/N: Just cause i'm lazy...this chapter has not been beta'ed.** **Thanks to Goldy for sharing the wealth!**

* * *

_I've had my moments, days in the sun  
Moments I was second to none  
Moments when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do _

_­-Moments, Emerson Drive- _

* * *

**_Chapter Four_**

**_Moments_**

"Kelly Lovelace, age seven. Went missing about the same time as Kady," Booth said as he entered Brennan's office and dropped the folder on her desk.

"Any connection?" she asked, picking the folder up.

"None," Booth answered.

"Two victims, both the same age. Killed the same way, and there's no connections?"

"They lived thirty minutes apart, but went to different schools, played different sports. Different churches, different everything." Booth dropped in the chair opposite of Brennan and then stood and began to pace. "I just don't get it."

"We'll get it figured out, Booth."

"Yeah, like we did the last case. Vancuvor is mocking me from behind bars, damn it."

"Maybe it's not Vancuvor," Brennan pointed out. "Maybe somebody else killed Kady and Kelly."

"Not possible," Booth said. "Not with the Black Baccara being found on Kady."

"Aren't you putting a lot of stake on a rose?"

"It's the only thing I have, Bones. The only thing." He scanned Brennan's face, meet her eyes and then quickly looked away. "Has Hodgins run the tests yet?"

"I have," the scientist in question said from the doorway.

"And?" Hodgins nodded, and Booth looked like he had gotten hit in the gut.

"And?" Brennan asked. "And what?"

"He found the Baccara," Booth answered. He pushed by Hodgins, slammed his hand against the door jam and then marched out of the labs. Brennan stood at her desk and watched him go.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"The same clay as I found on Kady. Sorry I don't have anything else."

XxXxX

"Kady and Kelly were in the hospital at the same time," Booth said as he opened his apartment door to Brennan. He then quickly turned away from her and walked back to his living room. Brennan stood at the door slightly surprised, and then followed him, closing the door behind her.

"How long have you been at this?" Brennan asked. She watched as Booth dropped to his knees in front of the coffee table and search through piles of paper.

"Since I left the Jeffersonian," he said off handily. He shifted through more papers and then held up a single sheet.

"Booth, it's ten o'clock."

At this, he looked up. "What are you doing here at this time of night?" he questioned.

"I came to check on you," she answered. "Did you say Kady and Kelly were in the hospital…"

"At the same time," Booth interrupted. "Almost four years ago Kady stayed over night for dehydration and Kelly was there for a few hours due to a fractured arm."

"They wouldn't have had contact with each other."

"Maybe not," Booth said, standing. "But they would have had contact with the same people, or person." Brennan watched Booth walk into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and then walked back.

"How many of those have you had?"

"Cups of coffee? Oh, I don't know four, five, sixteen."

"Right, I think you've had enough," Brennan said, taking the mug out of his hands. "Tell me more about what you've found."

"Not much yet. They had different doctors and nurses, but they could have had meet another nurse, or a orderly or, oh I don't know. What I do know is that we've got other connection beside the Black Baccara."

"So where does that leave us?"

Booth looked over at Brennan. "I'm not sure. But at least I have something else." He looked longingly at the cup of coffee that Brennan held, then dropped to his knees and began to shuffle through the papers again.

"Anything else?" Brennan asked from the kitchen where she was pouring the coffee into the sink.

"I'm working on it," Booth told her. "I still haven't figured out how Vancuvor fits into the picture yet. Maybe he was in the hospital? Or visiting? Or hell, he could have been working there for all I know. First thing tomorrow, I'll have Chuck look into Vancuvor's work history." Brennan took a seat on the couch as she listened to Booth rumble on--the caffeine in his body sending him into overdrive.

"Booth, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead." The agent went on searching through the papers, highlighting important bits of information in yellow. Brennan watched Booth pull his notebook close and jot down some notes.

"Booth?"

"Huh?"

Brennan took a deep breath, and then continued on. "Can we talk about you leaving?"

"Transfer," he corrected. "I put in for a transfer, I'm not leaving the FBI."

"About your transfer, then, are you sure about this?"

"Guess so," Booth answered. "Needed a change." Brennan slid from the couch to her knees and covered Booth's hand with hers to still it.

"Seeley," she said, forcing him to look over at her. "Stop and talk for a moment."

"I'm not sure what you want to talk about," Booth responded. "I'm transferring to a different department. I needed a change."

"What about us? Our partnership? Me? I didn't know you were unhappy. Stressed, yes, but not unhappy."

Booth sat back against the couch, his legs crossed in front of him. "The FBI will assign another agent," he said. "There's a line of willing men. I'll always treasure our partnership, Bones. You have to know that. And as for as you, you'll be fine. You're a strong woman. You'll get another agent whipped into shape in no time." Brennan looked down, unable to hold his gaze.

"What about our…our friendship?"

"Bones, we'll always be friends. You've got to trust me on that, but haven't you ever felt like your life was in a rut? That you needed a change?"

"Most people get a new haircut," Brennan said, causing Booth to laugh.

"Yeah, but most people…" _aren't going crazy,_ he finished silently. "I have to do this, Bones. Everything is just getting to me. I'm not myself anymore. Even Parker has noticed the difference."

"I thought you loved your job?"

"I do…I did. Don't think it was easy for me to make my choice, because it wasn't. But I've got to do what's best for me."

XxXxX

"So did you talk to Booth?" Angela asked walking into Brennan's office the next day.

"Yeah, I talked to him."

"And?"

"He needs a change." Angela flopped down on the couch, one arm under her head.

"Tell him to shave his head or something."

"I don't think there's any way to talk him out of it," Brennan told her friend.

"There has to be something we can do?"

"I'm listening if you have any ideas." Brennan pushed back in her chair, folded her hands over her stomach and waited. "Well?"

"I'm thinking," the artist said.

"'Bout what?" Hodgins asked stepping into the office.

"Booth is transferring to a new job," Angela said.

"No way. Dude, that's rough."

"Bren's feeling a little depressed about it."

"I'm not depressed," Brennan argued.

"Brennan, you're depressed." The anthropologist rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Anyhow, what can I do for you Hodgins?"

"The FBI sent over their reports, thought you would want to look it over."

"Why didn't Booth bring it over?" Brennan asked, taking the folder from Hodgins.

"Don't know, didn't ask." At that, he turned and left.

"Men never ask the right questions," Angela pointed out. Brennan gave a soft laugh and then opened the file. She scanned over the words as Angela rumbled on about something or the other.

"Odd that the only thing connects Kady and Kelly is the Bacarra and a hospital," Brennan said.

"And so far we can't connect Vancuvor to either one."

"Well, I have someone who may be able to help with that," Booth told the women as he came into the office.

"What do you mean?" Brennan asked, looking up at him.

"Chuck was able to dig up where Vancuvor use to hang out when he was younger. The bartender's been there for years and should remember his mug--that's his face. So, grab your stuff. We're rolling."

"You haven't changed your mind have you?" Brennan asked when they were settled in the SUV.

"About the transfer?" She nodded. "Nope. And I'm happy with my decision." Brennan searched his face and felt her heart drop when she realized that he was serious.

"There's no changing your mind?" Booth locked his chocolate stare to hers and swallowed hard. Here was the one woman in the world that could make him do anything. If there was a way to change his mind, she could do it. _Yeah, _he thought. _You could tell me you have feelings about me. You could say that I'm the reason you and Sully didn't work out. You could ask me to stay._

"No," he said aloud. He felt tears burning the back of his eyes at the look Brennan gave him. "Listen, Bones," he started.

"Don't Booth," she said. "Just…don't." She turned away from him and looked out the window.

XxXxX

"Are we there yet?" Brennan asked, tossing her hair as she turned to look over at Booth.

"You sound six," he teased. "But yeah, we're almost there,"

"What do you think we'll find at a bar? I thought you said Vancuvor hadn't been here since he was twenty or so. You think the bartender will remember him?"

"No idea," Booth said pulling into a parking lot. They climbed out of the SUV and made their way to the front door. Booth pulled the large wooden door opened, motioned for Brennan to enter and then followed.

"We're closed," a man sweeping the floor called out.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," Booth said, holding up his badge and then his ID. "My partner, Doctor Brennan."

The man leaned against his broom and let out a long, low whistle. "What's the feds doing here?"

"Looking for Salty McCorry," Booth answered. "You know where he's at?"

"Sure. He's in the back."

"Would you mind getting him, Mister…?"

"Green," the man supplied. "JJ Green."

"Would you mind getting him, Mister Green?"

"Yup." JJ nodded, placed the broom against the bar and then headed toward the back.

"Not what I was expecting," Brennan said as she turned in a slow circle. The walls were a rich, dark mahogany decorated with local sport pennants and signed pictures of famous people. The bar itself, was made from the same wood, polished to a shine. Small round tables dotted the floor closet to the bar that then gave way to a small dance floor that went right into a stage. In the far corner a large jukebox stood proud and not far from that was a beautiful piano. Booth made his way towards the musical instrument and ran his fingers along the smooth keys, and then began to hit a few of the keys that began to sound like _Twinkle, twinkle, little star._ "I'm impressed with you musical abilities." Booth glanced over his shoulder at Brennan before sliding onto the bench. He stretched out his fingers, placed them on the correct keys and Brennan listened as a lovely tune rose up and filled the room. Booth hummed along as he played--his eyes slightly closed. "I know that song," Brennan said, when he was done.

"Yeah?" he asked, standing from the bench.

"What is it?"

Booth gave his partner the first charm smile in a long while, but never answered. Instead, he turned toward the raspy voice of Salty McCorry. "Nice playing there, Son," he said, holding out a chubby hand. "What can a do for the FBI?"

Booth shook the hand and then pulled a picture from his inside pocket. "Do you recognize this man?" Salty took the photo, and held it out and squinted his eyes a little and then nodded.

"Looks like I should," Salty said, taking the picture and walking toward the bar. Booth followed and took a seat on one of the many empty bar stools. Brennan mimicked his actions and watched the old bar tender work his magic. Salty placed a drink in front of each partner, wiped his hands on a dishrag and then picked up the picture again. "Gary Vancuvor," he said. "Hadn't seen him in years. What did he do?"

"He's in prison," Booth said.

"No kiddin'." Salty didn't look too surprised.

"What can you tell us about him?" Brennan asked.

"Well, he was the quiet kind, ya know? Stayed to himself a lot. Came in here a few times during the week, normally on Friday and Saturday as well."

"How do you remember all this?" Brennan questioned.

Salty crossed his arms on the bar top before answering. "You do this job long enough, darling, and you learn that rememberin' faces and names equal more money."

"How long has it been since Gary's been here?"

"Oh, um, it's been years. Four, maybe."

"Did Vancuvor have any friends?" Booth asked.

"Not that I can recall," Salty said. "There was one guy. He came in for a few months. Said he was here on business. Him and Vancuvor seem to hit it off. They use to sit down at the end of the bar." Booth glanced down and could almost see the two men sitting there.

"Can you tell us what the other guy looked like?" Brennan asked.

"Sure, about five foot seven," Salty said. "Shaggy black hair. Oh, he had this scar."

"A scar?" Booth repeated.

"Yeah, a nice pale one that ran through his right eyebrow and down his cheek." Salty dragged one finger down the side of his face to show his point. "Said once he got it in a fight with a fed."

"Thanks for the drinks," Booth said standing. "And for the information."

"No problem," Salty called after them as Booth hurried Brennan out. "Stop back by any time."

"You know who Salty was talking about, didn't you?" Brennan asked. They got into the SUV and Booth cranked it up.

"Maybe," he said. "But I won't know for sure until I run down a few things."

"It's more than a maybe, Booth."qu

"Yeah, okay, so I think I know who the other guy is."

"Who?"

"Lonnie Castor."

"Who?"

"He was one of the first cases I worked," Booth told her. "When I was a rookie."

"And you know this how?"

"The shaggy hair, the scar. It's just a hunch." Brennan watched him for a moment but didn't say anything.

They drove in silence for forty-five minutes before Booth broke it. "I hadn't always been this way, you know."

"What way is that?" Brennan asked, looking over at him.

The agent took a deep breath then said, "Crazy."

"You're not crazy, Booth."

"Feels like it." He shook his head. "Feels like my world is turning inside out. Like everything is unraveling and the edges are becoming frayed. But I've had my moments," he went on. "Moments when I felt like I was on cloud nine, like I couldn't do any wrong. I thought being in the Army was going to make me a hero, instead it made me a murderer. Crazy too."

"You're not a murderer," Brennan argued. "You are a hero."

"No," he answered. "I'm far from being a hero. After I got out, I thought, foolishly thought, that if I could put the bad guys away, then I could redeem myself in God's eyes."

"I don't know much about your God," Brennan said. "But I thought all you had to do was ask."

"How can I ask?" Booth questioned. "How can I ask God to forgive when I can't?" He shook his head again. "Like I said, I had my moments." He glanced over at her. "I only wish you could have known me then. In my best moments. Moments when I was second to none."


	6. Life Ain't always Beautiful

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life has been very busy. So here's the last chapter of this fiction. Yes, you read that right...LAST. Here you get to find out if they solve the case? Will Brennan get Booth to stay? What's in store for our favorite duo? It's not very long, but it gets the job done.**

**Wolfy's Warning: This chapter has not been beta'ed. Sorry bout that...but my beta is having internet/computer problems today. So all mistakes are mine, and I kindly ask you to over look them like good readers.**

* * *

_No, life aint always beautiful  
Tears will fall sometimes  
Life aint always beautiful  
But it's a beautiful ride_

_-Life Ain't Always Beautiful , Gary Allan-_

"Tell me about Lonnie Castor," Brennan said, stopping Booth in mid-motion as he brought his hand down to knock on her door jam.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together. She looked up at him and offered a smile but didn't say anything. He watched her for a moment, then entered the office, flopped down in a chair and opened the file in his hands. "Lonnie Castor, age forty four, use to work as an architect here in DC. The first year I was on the force, Chester, that was my partner then, Chester and me were called out on a missing person. Seemed simple enough to start. Laurie Castor, Lonnie's wife, was twenty-nine and pregnant at the time. Our first thoughts were that somebody kidnapped her to steal the baby. We also ran with the idea that maybe she just left." Booth flipped a page in the folder and then continued. "Shortly after arriving at the Castor house, we found out that their daughter, nine year old Carra Castor wasn't at her piano lessons. Turns our Laurie had picked her up early. Chester and I both thought that the wife had just took the kid and skipped town, but then the ransom note came in. Per Lonnie's request, we gathered the money, placed a transmitter in with the bills, and he made the drop. Only problem was the kidnappers didn't deliver the wife and kid. Anyhow, we were finally able to locate them but ran into a huge problem. Both wife and child were hooked up to explosives. We could disarm one but we couldn't get to both of them, not the why they were connected." Booth closed the file, tossed it on Brennan's desk and took a deep breath.

"So, Castor had to choose?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah. Wife or daughter."

"Who?"

"His wife and unborn son," Booth said shaking his head. "No man should have to choose.

"So, what happened?"

"Three days later Laurie went into labor and gave birth to their son, Kevin. But she couldn't live with it any more. Two months after Kevin was born, Lonnie found her dead in the bath tub."

"So what, you made Lonnie choose so Vancuvor made you choose? Why?"

"I don't know," Booth admitted. "As far as I can tell, Lonnie and Vancuvor only knew each other from the bar."

"Maybe Lonnie paid Vancuvor off," Brennan suggested.

Booth shook his head. "There's no proof of that. No missing money from Lonnie's account and no big deposits into Vancuvor's."

"We could go talk to Vancuvor?"

"You really think he's going to tell us anything?" Booth asked.

"Okay, so what do we do?"

"Beats me. I guess we need to look at what we know." Brennan sat back in her chair, crossed her right leg over her left and then reached for the file.

"We know that Vancuvor wanted you to choose," she said.

"And that Lonnie was made to choose," Booth threw in.

"We know that Vancuvor killed at least three people, leaving the Black Baccara as a calling card."

Booth nodded. "And now we have two young girls with trace amounts of the Black Baccara on them."

"We know that Lonnie and Vancuvor knew each other for at least a few months," Brennan listed.

"Yeah, Salty said they spent a month or two talking at the bar."

"What else?" Brennan asked.

"We know that Vancuvor isn't talking from prison."

"So that leaves us where?"

"No where," Booth said, sliding down in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. Brennan mimicked his actions.

"Yeah, that's what I figured." The sat like this for five or so minutes before Brennan spoke again. "So what do we do next?"

"I don't know," Booth answered. "I guess we need to figure out how long Vancuvor and Lonnie kept in contact."

"And we still need to see if Lonnie had contact with Kady and Kelly."

"Right, and I guess it wouldn't hurt to try and track down Lonnie." Brennan nodded. Booth stretched his arms up over his head, ached his back and then stood. "Then I'll see you around."

"Booth," Brennan said, before Booth stepped over the threshold. The agent stopped, his hand on the door jam of the doorway. "You still haven't…"

"No," Booth interrupted. He patted the door jam and then walked out. Brennan watched him go and gave a heavy sigh. _How do I get him to stay,_ she thought. She propped an elbow on her desk and then rested her chin on her fist. _Has to be a way._ She let her mind wondered, and was finally drawn out of her thoughts when Angela came skipping into the office.

"You look sad," the artist pointed out as she took a seat in Booth's now vacant chair.

"Booth's still leaving," Brennan said, sitting back in her chair.

"No talking him out of it?"

"He says there's not." Both women were quiet for a moment.

"Maybe we could tie him up and keep him looked in the basement," Angela suggested.

"I don't think that's a real possibility," Brennan said.

"Naw, I guess not."

"Anyhow, did you want to see me for something?"

"What? Oh, wanted to know if you wanted to grab some lunch."

Brennan shook her head no. "I've got too much work to do today. Maybe tomorrow."

Booth sat at his desk in FBI headquarters flipping through papers. So far he had found nothing to link Lonnie or Vancuvor to the hospital that Kelly and Kady had stayed in. There was no evidence that the two girls new each other. Sure they looked similar, long gold hair, blue eyes, small frame, just like Goldilocks and Carra Castor, but nothing else about the girls matched. Booth also couldn't find anything other than Salty's bar to connect Lonnie and Vancuvor. He gave an aggravated growl, and scrubbed the heels of his hands over his face. _This isn't going well,_ he thought to himself. No connections. No motives. Nothing. _Maybe I'm getting out at the right time_. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't figure out why Lonnie had killed Kelly and Kady--_if he in fact did._ Or why Vancuvor had killed those three men and kidnapped Brennan and Cam. He hated to think that this was an unsolvable case, but that's what it was starting to look like. His only hope was that they could find Lonnie and have him cast some light on the whole thing. Booth's desk phone began to ring, breaking the silence of his office. "Booth," he said into the headset. He listened, sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Are you sure? Yeah, thanks." Hanging his phone up, he sat there a moment, before slamming a fist down on his desk. "Holy Mother of Jesus," he mumbled.

"Problem?" Booth looked up and found Cullen holding his door open.

"Lonnie Castor," he said. "They can't find him."

"And where does that leave your case?" Cullen asked.

"What case?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." With that, the deputy director left the office, letting the door close behind him.

Booth gave a slight tap on Brennan's door, causing her to look up from her work. "Hey," she said, closing the folder to give him her full attention.

"Hi." Booth entered the office and took a sit on her couch. "Lonnie is in the wind," he told her. "Nothing else to do until we can find him."

Brennan nodded. "And what about you?"

"Cullen's arranged for me to fill in at a few different sub-headquarters. Just until I figure out where I want to go." Brennan dropped her eyes to her desk.

"Where are you going first?"

"Leaving for a two week stay in New York," he told her. "Then I'll be back for my weekend with Parker, then off again, but I'm not sure where to yet."

"Are you sure…" she started picking her eyes up to his and then letting the sentence fall short.

"I'm sure," he answered. "This is best, Bones."

"You keep saying that, but I'm not sure why."

"Cause, Bones, sometimes you just need a change. Life ain't always beautiful," he said.

"And what does that mean?" she questioned.

"Sometime we have to do difficult things," Booth answered. "Things that may hurt other people, but we still do it. We do things to keep our lives from becoming too complicated. Life's a beautiful ride, Bones, but it ain't always beautiful." With that the agent stood. "I'll see you before I leave," he said. "And call you when I get back." Brennan nodded and then watched her partner go without another word.

Brennan stood on the center platform looking over some remains from limbo and humming quietly to herself. Booth had arrived back from New York a few days before and was now on a plane somewhere heading toward Oregon. The doctor gave a sigh, and continued with her examination. "You do know it's after eleven, don't you?" Angela asked, sliding her card and climbing the stairs.

"So what are you doing here?" Brennan asked. Angela shrugged.

"Got caught up with a drawing," she answered. "Did you have a good lunch with Booth?"

"It was okay," the doctor said. Angela leaned back against the railing and crossed her arms.

"Did you try to change his mind?"

Brennan shook her head. "I gave up on that, Ange."

"That's not like you," Angela pointed out. "You never give up."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just have too." Angela watched her friend for a moment, listening to her absently humming.

"That's a pretty song," the artist said suddenly, causing Brennan to look up--a confused look on her face.

"What song?"

"The one you were just humming," Angela pointed out.

"Do you know the words?" she asked. "I have the tune but can't gather the words."

"Sure," Angela said. "That's _I have Dreamed_ from the King and I."

"I know that song," Brennan mumbled to herself. "But what are the words?"

"I have dreamed that your arms are lovely," Angela began, slightly off key. "And I have dreamed what a joy you'll be. I have dreamed ev'ry word you'll whisper. When you're close, close to me."

"How you look in the glow of evening," Brennan picked up. "I have dreamed and enjoyed the view. In these dreams I've loved you so. That by now I think I know. What it's like to be loved by you. I will love being loved by you"

"In these dreams I've loved you so," they half song together. "That by now I think I know. What it's like to be loved by you. I will love being loved by you."

"That's the song," Angela said, pleased. "So why are you humming a love song?" Brennan stood starring, her eyes wide but unseeing. "Hello?"

"Oh, no reason," Brennan lied. "Nothing."

"Okay," Angela said. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow." The artist left without getting an answer. Brennan placed her hands flat on the table. Since that day at Salty's when Booth had played her a song, she had been trying to figure out what the words were--now she knew. _I have dreamed_, she thought. _But why? _She lifted her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Things just got complicated," she said with a sigh.

* * *

_**The End**_

_but don't worry, I wouldn't do that to you. Look for the third installment of the Black Baccara Trilogy coming soon._


End file.
